Shadow Borne (9 page)

"Lahuel."

If ice had trickled down my spine a few
minutes before, the mention of the Lahuel was enough to create a
virtual avalanche. So the shadow man was looking for Claire. And
apparently me. It shouldn't have been a particularly surprising
development. After the raid we had led on Kahn's army, and the
Lahuel served Kahn, after all, we had been expecting some sort of
retaliation.

The fighting was far from over and we all
knew that. I just hadn't quite been expecting...this. The Lahuel
was rarely seen and I couldn't recall anyone ever having received a
"message" from him–it–and I was one hundred percent certain that if
by some slim chance someone had ever been on the receiving end of a
message from the Lahuel, it damn sure hadn't been delivered by a
Coatyl.

I hung my head for a moment, fighting my way
back from the edge of hysteria. Oh sweet mother, the Coatyl could
talk and think and probably strategize, too, if the rest of the
damn things were as shrewdly intelligent as this one had been. My
blood ran cold; if that was truly the case, then we were all
screwed.

I wiped the droplets of blood across my
pants before I realized what I was doing and grimaced at the dark
black smear the Coatyl blood left on the fabric. I sheathed the
knife and made a mental note to grab another pair of pants before I
left. Because no way in hell was I sleeping in the cabin tonight. I
exhaled and, hands on my hips, regarded the dead Coatyl now hanging
from the wall like a bleached, limp rag.

I reached forward and grasped the shaft of
the arrow with both hands, braced one foot on the wall next to the
creature, twisted a little this way and that to create some give,
and applied steady backward pressure until I'd pulled enough to
free the arrow from his body. It was coated in the same black
sludge that dripped all over the carpet, that smeared across my
pants.

I wiped the arrow clean with an oilcloth
from the kitchen and returned it to its rightful place in the
quiver before turning my attention to the body on the floor below
the window. Leaving him here wasn't an option. I was beginning to
make rapid mental connections now. Mark and the others would want
to study the thing, especially the head and brain, I realized, my
stomach clenching, because things didn't just change like that.

Even small changes to a
species took hundreds of years to become really noticeable.
Something like–I glanced down at the lifeless
Coatyl–t
his
, was
not possible on its own, let alone in a matter of, what, three
months?

No, the Coatyl had been altered somehow. I
took a deep breath and marched across the kitchen to grab a trash
bag and a thick burlap sack from my small pantry. I could only hope
this was the only one that had been messed with. It was a cold and
fleeting comfort. If this one had been changed, altered somehow,
then it stood to reason others would follow.

The Coatyl wasn't heavy but it was awkward
and sticky and I kept half expecting it to rise from the dead or
something, for its eyes to pop open and zero in on me. It didn't,
although after everything that had transpired this evening, I
seriously doubted it would surprise me if the thing magically woke
up and danced a jig in the middle of the living room.

So even though I felt a little silly for
doing it, I darted back into the small utility pantry off the tiny
kitchen and grabbed a hard coil of twine and a pair of wire
cutters, knelt beside the Coatyl and secured both his arms and legs
before placing him into the bag. It took quite a bit of maneuvering
and by the time I'd tied the string on the burlap I was grateful
I'd skipped dinner that evening.

If there had been anything in my stomach, I
just might have lost it all over the kitchen floor. I was a mess;
the entire front of my clothes was black and goopy and worse, my
clothing was thin so it was also sticking to my skin.

Well, there was no help for it. I would just
have to change clothes and clean up a little before going outside
and jumping the fence. I thought I glimpsed a slight movement out
the window then and went for my knife, just in case. Maybe taking
the time to change in the house wasn't the best idea, under the
circumstances. Maybe I'd be better off grabbing an extra outfit,
the jug of river water I kept in the bathroom, and a rag. I could
hop the fence and clean up outside once I was safe and sound on the
protected side of the fence.

I'd retrieved the clothes,
water and a blanket, and was in the process of hefting the burlap
sack over one shoulder when the faint rustling sound came from the
door. Dropping the sack and the jug, I immediately went into a
defensive crouch as, with a pop and a click, the knob turned and
the door was flung open. No,
no
not another one. A tall dark shape filled the
doorway and with deadly aim and a flick of the wrist, I let the
knife fly.

Chapter Five

Nightmare

"Aranu!" I screamed an instant after I'd
already thrown the knife. There was nothing to do but watch in
horror as the blade hurtled dead center toward his face. At the
last second, just before the knife would have embedded itself into
his flesh, he twisted to the side and the weapon flew past him, out
the open door. It clattered into the dirt beside my scraggly
looking flowerbeds and I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn't
just managed to inadvertently kill one of my oldest friends.

I sagged over a kitchen chair, breathing
heavily while I waited for my racing heart to slow. The adrenaline
crash left me feeling weak, spent. "I'm so sorry." I gasped,
shoving ropes of black hair out of my face and finally pushing away
from the chair to face him. "Nice reflexes. It's a good thing,
huh?" I smiled weakly.

Aranu had remained standing in the doorway,
not moving a muscle but quietly assessing the situation inside my
house. His eyes traveled past me to the kitchenette area of the
minuscule kitchen/dining combo, to the broken window and black
splatters and stains, down to the burlap sack just beyond my feet.
He seemed to take the scene in before finally he glanced back at
me. "And here I thought I was coming to save you."

"You're a few minutes late, I'm afraid." I
smiled ruefully and bent to retrieve the sack from where I'd
dropped it, intending to ask Aranu what he was doing here, how he'd
known I had been in trouble. Not that I was overly concerned about
getting bogged down in the details. I probably should have been but
truthfully I was just grateful to not be alone right then; the
why's and how's of it almost didn't matter.

"I was on my way home from patrol and
noticed the broken window. I could see you were kneeling on the
floor so I stopped in." He answered my unspoken question. "I was
going to rescue you." He shrugged, a hint of a smile touching his
lips in the dimly lit room.

"Hey, yeah," I hefted the bag over one
shoulder, remembering the series of clicks I'd heard in the seconds
before Aranu had pulled a he-man on my door. "How did you get in?
Not that I'm not appreciative." I added, loathe to appear
ungrateful, especially after I'd jumped all over him earlier.

Aranu reached into some hidden inner pocket
of his leather vest and pulled out a pair of silver picks, neither
of the instruments was much longer than the width of his palm; one
was a little thicker and shorter than the other.

"Oh. Well, that answers my question then.
Like I said, you missed the action by a good ten minutes, but I
could use a hand getting this stuff outside." And I could use the
company. "It's a dead Coatyl." I added as an afterthought. It was
probably bad etiquette to hand someone a dead body without telling
them first.

"Sure thing." he said easily and plucked the
awkward sack from my arms. He slung it over his own shoulder with
ridiculous ease. "But I wouldn't be so hasty in saying I'm too late
to save you. Not that you need the help," he was quick to add, "but
there's another Coatyl outside."

"Damn." I slammed a fist against the table
and snatched up my spare clothes, blanket, and jug of water. Great.
That was just great.

"So we kill it. Easy." Aranu started toward
the door. "They're getting bold." He glanced back with a frown at
the damage in the room. And suddenly I remembered the most
shattering development of the night and that I had to tell him
before he walked out the door.

"Aranu, wait!" He paused at the threshold
and swiveled his head toward the middle of the room, where I had
once again plunked my bags down, this time on the table though,
instead of the floor. "The Coatyl–at least I think it's all of the
Coatyl–aren't just getting bold. They've been...altered." I said,
for lack of a better word. "They're talking. Well, this one spoke
to me, anyway. He was able to think for himself, too." I added.

Aranu shifted the burden from his right
shoulder to his left and cocked his head to the side. "What did it
say to you?"

That was so like Aranu. No visible surprise
in his hard face. I couldn't say for sure if he was shocked or not
at the bombshell I'd just unloaded on him but at a guess I'd have
had to say no. He didn't look overly traumatized at the prospect of
an army of mutated Coatyl running amok in Terlain, in the woods
around Grandview where damn near everyone we knew made their homes.
No cursing-and I knew for a fact that he'd picked up a few choice
additions to his vocabulary from hanging around me. No grimace, no
scowl. Just a grim stare and an even toned "what did it say to
you."

Taking a step closer to Aranu, I was careful
to keep my voice low in case the Coatyl outside was close enough to
eavesdrop. "It–he–said the Lahuel sent him to kill me and write a
message in my blood telling Claire that she's next." This did
finally manage to elicit a visible reaction from Aranu.

I watched his eyes narrow on the bag he
carried, as though he were wishing the Coatyl could be killed
twice; he suddenly looked like he would enjoy choking the already
dead creature. I knew the feeling. Looking around the trashed mess
that was now my house was starting to make me feel pretty
uncharitable, as well. Mentally I began to catalog the damage in
just the kitchen alone. The carpet was definitely ruined, never
mind that it had been the one thing I'd hated about my house. It
had at least been functional for the time being. Not anymore, I
sighed. The Coatyl blood would never come out.

"Ari?"

I brought my attention back to Aranu.
"Yes?"

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes."

"You want to cross the fence, right?"

I nodded and grabbed my bow and arrows on
the off chance the remaining Coatyl tried to ambush us once we got
outside. It wasn't a likely scenario though, especially if the
thing had been altered like the one Aranu now carried; it would be
smart enough to know Aranu and I against a lone Coatyl weren't good
odds for the Coatyl.

"There was only one?" I bit my lip and
followed him out the ruined door.

"That I saw. But you know there's never just
one. They're probably all over."

"Maybe they're not all over." I mused as we
tromped the few feet to fence. "What if they don't travel in packs
anymore? Or what if they don't have to?"

Aranu stealthily climbed over the fence,
waiting until I had safely joined him on the protected side before
speaking. "You mean what if they're smart enough to realize there
are times to hunt together but also that one or two are less easily
detected? That crowd mentality and brute force isn't the only way
to hunt?"

"Exactly." I knelt on the grass and began to
lay out my change of clothes, along with the rag and jug of water
I'd taken from the cabin. "What if they're not even hunting
anymore?" I posed the question while Aranu tossed the burlap sack
to the ground and begun to untie the cords at the end of the bag.
"What if they're strategizing? What if they're organized?"

He paused in the act of reaching into the
sack. "That would certainly change things." he murmured, taking
care to loosen the knot on the black plastic garbage bag that
contained the Coatyl.

"You're telling me." I muttered. "Let's just
hope there aren't hundreds of the things running around. Turn
around." I ordered. "I need to wash and change." Sure, the other
Coatyl was out there somewhere–and we would be lucky if that was
the only thing watching–but there wasn't anything I could do about
it. No way was I wearing bloody clothes all night.

Aranu immediately shifted his position to
show me his back and I began the disgusting process of removing the
sticky garments, easing the shirt slowly over my head and knowing I
was getting a little blood in my hair anyway. The front of the
shirt was so wet that even folding the cloth over didn't help
much.

Once I'd stripped everything off, I poured a
liberal amount of water onto one of the rags and proceeded to scrub
most of the grime from my skin and hair. Once that was done, I used
the second, smaller rag to dry off; I was slipping a clean black
v-neck top over my head and twisting my thick hair into a knot at
the back of my head when Aranu resealed the bags, rose to his feet,
and turned to face me.

"There will be more." he said. "If we're
lucky there will only be a couple hundred running free."

"That's not exactly a great best case
scenario." I said dryly.

"We aren't exactly lucky people are we?" He
smiled ruefully.

"Well, that depends on how you look at it."
I mumbled. "You really think we've got an epidemic on our
hands?"

"If we don't now," he said, walking to the
fence line to stare out into the darkness beyond the cabin, “we
will soon.”

Clouds had covered the moon again and the
only illumination in our immediate vicinity came from the glimmer
of the fence. The golden light softened Aranu's harsh features in
profile. He looked more human.